Orion stands on the tarmac, his olive green suit looking sharp against the grey Gotham sky. A familiar telepathic nudge from Latias, a soft hum of worry, gently touches his mind. He reassures her that he will be perfectly fine, that a charity party is, in its own way, the safest place for him. Pikachu, perched on his shoulder, gives a determined pika-chu and a confident squeak, his tiny bowtie already perfectly knotted. Orion pats the small Pokémon's back, acknowledging his silent promise of protection. He turns to see Valeria and Franklin approaching, the Fantastic Four siblings dressed in their finest for the event. He greets them with a warm nod, the trio ready to board the waiting private plane.
Orion Oak, the enigmatic owner of Pokémon Home, is attending the annual Wayne Enterprises charity gala in Gotham City, a city known for its brooding vigilante and high-society events. He is accompanied by Valeria and Franklin Richards, two young geniuses from the Fantastic Four, who are representing their family at the party. The trip marks a pivotal moment for Orion's mission, as he aims to secure the Wayne family's extensive lands for planting the essential Berry seeds, preparing for a world transformation that will bring an influx of wild Pokémon into this dimension. His quiet confidence stems from an unwavering belief in his purpose, a mission from Arceus himself. Pikachu, ever vigilant, mirrors Orion's resolve, a silent guardian ready for any unexpected turns, even at a black-tie event.
The private jet hums softly, a gentle cocoon against the vast blue. Valeria, elegant in her deep blue dress, gazes thoughtfully at the fluffy clouds drifting by, a stark contrast to the bustling city they left behind. Franklin, in his perfectly tailored black suit, quietly turns the pages of a magazine, occasionally nudging Orion to point out an interesting picture. Orion, with a calm, gentle expression, rests his hand on Pikachu's back, who dozes peacefully on his lap. The easy silence between them is punctuated only by the distant [JET ENGINE WHINE], a peaceful interlude before the gala's social demands.
The private jet settles onto the private runway with a soft whoosh of air Brakes, the distant city lights of Gotham a faint, shimmering haze against the inky sky. A sleek, black limousine, its polished surface reflecting the runway lights, glides silently to a stop beside the boarding stairs. Orion steps out first, his gaze sweeping the surroundings with an almost imperceptible alertness. He offers a hand to Valeria, her deep blue gown flowing elegantly as she descends, then to Franklin, who straightens his tie with a practiced air. Pikachu, ever watchful, twitches an ear from Orion's shoulder. Orion opens the limousine door, Valeria slides gracefully onto the plush leather seat, Franklin follows, and Orion takes his place beside her, the small electric Pokémon still perched comfortably on his shoulder. The door clicks shut, a soft thunk, sealing them inside the quiet luxury as the vehicle pulls away.
The limousine smoothly glides through Gotham's intricate streets, the city's imposing gothic architecture looming large outside the tinted windows. Valeria adjusts the elegant hem of her blue dress, a faint shimmer of silk catching the subdued interior light. Franklin, ever meticulous, straightens his perfectly tied bow tie, his reflection a sharp, young genius ready for any social challenge. Orion sits calmly between them, one hand resting lightly on the polished silver head of his cane, his presence a quiet anchor in the luxurious vehicle. Pikachu, usually quite relaxed, stands alert on Orion's shoulder, his tiny bowtie perfectly centered, his whiskers twitching almost imperceptibly as he senses their approaching destination. The vehicle slows to a nearly silent crawl as it nears the towering Wayne Tower, the Grand Atrium's grand entrance now brightly illuminated, a beacon drawing them forward. A low, almost imperceptible hum of the engine is the only sound, a subtle overture to the public spectacle awaiting them.
The limousine door silently swings open, revealing a blinding storm of flashing cameras and a cacophony of shouted questions. The trio emerges into the dazzling chaos, instantly enveloped by the frantic energy.
"Who is that in the olive suit?"
"Another Wayne socialite?" The paparazzi's voices jumble together, a wave of eager inquiries. Their lenses, like hungry eyes, focus intensely on Valeria and Franklin, familiar faces among the sea of new ones, capturing their poised expressions. Pikachu, never one to shy from attention, puffs out his chest, his small form exuding an almost theatrical confidence as he strikes a pose for the cameras, his tiny bowtie catching the bright, artificial light. Valeria, ever the diplomat, offers a bright, practiced smile, her arm looping gracefully through Orion's in a gesture that is both friendly and subtly guiding. She leans in close, her voice a soft murmur lost in the din, whispering something to him that he acknowledges with a slight, almost imperceptible nod, a quiet moment of connection amidst the public frenzy.
Orion and Valeria move forward, an elegant pair cutting a path through the gauntlet of flashing lights and shouts. Franklin trails a half-step behind, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his gaze sweeping the chaotic spectacle with a scientist's calm curiosity. Orion, ever composed, escorts Valeria with a practiced ease, his movements fluid and unhurried. He ignores the cacophony of shouted names and the relentless probing of the camera lenses, his focus unwavering on the path ahead. Pikachu remains a steadfast sentinel on Orion's shoulder, his bright, intelligent eyes scanning the crowd, taking in every detail. They reach the grand, ornate doors of the atrium, the harsh clamor of the street receding behind them like a fading tide as they prepare to step into the opulent interior.
The massive doors swing inward with a soft whoosh, revealing the Grand Atrium in all its breathtaking glory. Above, a vaulted ceiling stretches seemingly to infinity, adorned with crystal chandeliers that drip light, casting a warm, golden glow across the vast space. The low hum of polite conversation, a rich tapestry of whispers and soft laughter, fills the air, replacing the frantic energy of the outside world. Orion pauses for a beat, his eyes sweeping the room, not with awe, but with a quiet, discerning assessment. Valeria gives his arm a gentle squeeze, a silent signal, a quiet nudge to move forward. They step fully inside, the heavy doors closing softly behind them, sealing them off from the public spectacle and into the exclusive, gilded world of Gotham's elite.
***
Give power stones to support this book.
Advance chapters in P@T0n Najicablitz.